


A Bit Of A Boob

by mad_martha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, male breasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron makes a tit of himself.  So to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit Of A Boob

**Author's Note:**

> For those not familiar with British slang, "a bit of a boob" is another way of saying "a bit of a mistake". Making "a tit" of yourself is the same as making a fool of yourself, although it's considered much cruder.

"Psst!  Harry!  _Harry!_ "

"Why are you whispering?" Harry demanded, walking over to Ron's bed.  The redhead had the curtains tightly closed and just his pink, agitated face stuck out from between them.

"Keep your voice down!"

"There's no one else here!"

"Oh."  Ron turned even redder.  "I thought I heard Seamus."

"He's in the Common Room."  Harry reached out and tugged at the curtains, making his friend protest incoherently.  "Have you been here all afternoon?  You missed Quidditch practice - I thought you were ill!"

"Yes - no - maybe - "

"Which?"

"It's not exactly an illness," Ron said miserably. 

Harry frowned.  "So why are you hiding?"

"Because I can't go out like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like - "  Ron's face screwed up.  "Never mind."

"Don't be stupid."  Harry was growing exasperated.  "If there's something really wrong, maybe I should just get Madam Pomfrey - "

"No!"

" - Or Professor McGonagall - "

"You wouldn't!  Harry, I _can't_ let anyone see me like this!"

"Like what!" Harry shot back.  "How am I supposed to help you if you won't even tell me what's wrong?"

"It was a potion," Ron said in a rush.

"Ron," Harry said with exaggerated patience, "you're lousy at Potions.  Which is why you aren't taking the Potions NEWT this year, for which you are a very lucky, jammy git."

"I know I'm lousy at Potions, but this wasn't something I could exactly buy from Renders The Apothecaries or ask someone else to brew for me, okay?"

A nasty suspicion entered Harry's mind.  "If you were looking for something for - for one of your girlfriends, you know there are other ways of dealing with it, right?"

"What?  No!"  Ron looked horrified.  "What girlfriends?"

"What - oh, never mind!  If it's not a potion for that, then why were you trying to brew it?"

"Because - "  Ron stopped, his face turning an unattractive scarlet. 

"Ron ...."  Harry warned.

"Because Hermione said - _that_ \- about me and I wanted to try and put it right!  That's all."

Now Harry was bewildered.  "Hermione said what about you?"

"That I have the emotional range of a teaspoon," Ron muttered.

Harry felt a sudden snort of laughter well up and quickly smothered it.  "Um, yeah – but that was ages ago!  What have you done?"

"I was trying to make myself understand girls, okay?  She keeps going on about how I'm insensitive and I don't understand women, so I decided to - to try and understand my feminine side."  Ron could tell Harry was trying not to laugh and it made him sulky and defensive. 

"You were what?"  The bubble of laughter got even bigger.  "Ron, what happened?"

Ron bit his lip, fuming.  "You've got to promise you won't tell anyone, okay?"

"But how am I supposed to get help if I do that?" Harry asked reasonably.  "What if it's something we can't fix between us?"

"I can't go to Madam Pomfrey like this!" Ron said frantically.

"Just show me, okay!  I swear I won't run out of the room and tell the whole Common Room!"

"Okay - but I'm warning you, Harry - You know Who will have to stand in line to get at you if you tell anyone!" Ron warned.

And he jerked the curtains open defiantly.

Harry yelped and clapped his hands over his mouth.

Ron was kneeling on his bed, bare from the waist up, but instead of his familiar flat, freckly male chest, he had a pair of undeniably feminine breasts. 

Pink, perky, lightly freckled breasts with upstanding darker pink nipples.  About an average C-cup to Harry's recently experienced eyes.

 _Any bigger would be too big_ , he found himself thinking.  Then: _At least they match, unlike Ginny's._

Ron clapped his hands over them.  "Stop leering!" he demanded, blushing furiously.

"Sorry," Harry managed, but he wasn't really.  In between the more routine humiliations of being male, seventeen and The Boy Who Lived, he had discovered that (a) he was a leg man and it didn't seem to matter if the legs in question were attached to a boy or a girl, and (b) he was also a breast man, and it didn't matter if the breasts in question were attached to a girl, a statue or even that extraordinary carved wooden chair they'd found in the Room of Requirement one day.  Now it seemed that it didn't matter if they were attached to his best friend either. 

"Can you stop staring at them for two minutes and look me in the eyes instead?"  Now Ron sounded annoyed.

"Sorry - sorry!"  Harry dragged his eyes back to Ron's face.  It took a real effort; one tightly puckered nipple was protruding between Ron's fingers and it was amazingly distracting.

"Christ!  I can't believe you're getting turned on by these!"  He had to let go of them to gesture angrily and they bounced, making Harry's breath shorten and his eyes cross.  Ron was quick to fold his arms over them when he saw the other boy's reaction.  "Get a grip, will you?"

"Ron," Harry said faintly.  "Don't - don't talk about _gripping_ right now, okay?  Because - "

"But you've got to help me get rid of them!"

"Why?"

"Harry!"  Ron was appalled.

"They're _fantastic_ ," Harry said with a sigh.

Ron stared at him in disbelief, but when he saw his friend's glassy eyes his annoyance quickly turned to amusement.

"You kinky sod!  Do you even _care_ that it's a pair of tits attached to me, a bloke?"

"Of course I care!" Harry said indignantly, then he blushed, confused.  "I mean - "

"You don't, do you?" Ron said triumphantly.  "I knew it!  You're queer and you never told me!"

"What's _queer_ about liking a decent pair of tits?" Harry demanded, very red-faced.

"So it'll be a complete turn-off for you if I drop my trousers as well?"

"What?  No - I mean - "

"Or maybe you like both - tits and todger on one person, that's got to be handy!"

"Tits and - "  Harry suddenly realised what Ron had said and snorted.  " _Todger!_   Todger?  What the hell's a _todger_ when it's at home, you prat?"

"Don't change the subject!" Ron warned, wagging a finger at him and climbing down from the bed.  He was wearing a pair of red and white polka-dot boxers and nothing else, and Harry discovered that it made a not-unattractive package - long legs that had started developing muscle with the endless Quidditch training, ditto for the developing shoulders and arms, and - of course - the alluring swell of an entirely new bosom.

"Give us a squeeze," he said before he could stop himself, and Ron snorted.

"Not till you admit it!  You're - you're - gay and straight!  Aren't you?"

"The word's _bisexual_ , you stupid git," Harry said, rolling his eyes.  "Weren't you listening when Hermione gave everyone that lecture about her and Lisa Turpin?"

"Are you kidding?  I was too busy trying to _imagine_ it," Ron retorted.  "Weren't you?  You had that look on your face then as well - yeah, that's the one!"

"Give it a rest!" Harry said irritably.  "I'm a bloke, of course I was imagining it!  But I was paying attention too, obviously unlike you!"

"Now you sound just like her," Ron said moodily.  "Just because I'm not a – a walking encyclopaedia and don't use fancy words for stuff – "

"Why do you care, though?" Harry asked, puzzled. 

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you care what she thinks?  So you're not a brain like her.  Does it matter?  You're yourself, Ron, not Hermione.  You don't always have to agree with everything she says, and you know what?  I love Hermione but she's not always right about everything, she just thinks she is.  I noticed that a while back.  You're allowed your own opinions, mate, and so what if you're not all touchy-feely and girly?  I like you that way, okay?"  Then Harry grinned.  "Although I like the tits too."

Ron relaxed a little, suddenly feeling easier about things.  "Yeah, I suppose they're okay," he remarked, looking down at them and giving them an experimental push up with both palms.  "It'd almost be fun, if I knew how I did it in the first place.  Do you reckon we can get rid of them?  I don't much fancy having to go down to dinner with them still on.  I mean, I'd have to ask Ginny to lend me a bra!"  He snorted a laugh.

"None of her bras would fit," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Ron's eyes narrowed.  "Do I want to know how you know that?"

"Um … I'm observant?"

"Hm."  Fortunately, Ron was too caught up in his own breasts to wonder overmuch how Harry knew the contents of his sister's underwear drawer.  "Maybe we could transfer them to someone else.  Lavender – she's barely got anything worth looking at."

"Yeah, but does she need four?" Harry asked distractedly.  Watching Ron play with his own nipples – nipples that were attached to _those_ breasts – was doing terrible things to his self-control.

Ron sniggered.  "We should give them to Snape – see him try to bitch about other people's scars when he's flashing a 38C around the lab."

"Ew – no!"

"You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that, mate," Ron said, looking up.  "I mean, being _bisexual_ is one thing, but Snape?  That would be sick."

"Ron – just shut up, yeah?" Harry said with a whimper in his voice.  "You're spoiling the show."

"What?"  Ron looked surprised.  "But you don't fancy me, do you?"

"Is that a problem?"  Harry really hoped it wasn't a problem.  Ron's hands dropped to his sides and the movement made the breasts sway gently.  Harry wondered if Ron would fight it if he jumped on him.

"No, it's just – " Ron gestured to his new acquisitions.  "It's a bit weird, when I've got these."

"I think we just established that I don't have a problem with them," Harry said, edging closer to his friend.

"Yeah, but doesn't it make a difference?"

"Not unless your dick has dropped off too."  Harry had to swallow a laugh when Ron quite seriously pulled the waistband of his boxers out and took a quick look.

"Nope – "

"That's good."

"Yeah.  Believe me, I would have missed it."

Harry was within arm's reach now.  He wondered if it would be bad manners to grab.

Ron would not shut up.  "Don't you reckon they'll get in the way though?"

 _Of what?_   Harry wondered.  "They won't," he said directly to Ron's bosom. 

"Maybe I should call Hermione up here and ask her advice."

Harry's eyes flew to his face.  "What!"

Ron sniggered.  "Thought that might get your atten – _mmf!_ "

Harry had discovered some time ago that sometimes the only way to get people to shut up and focus their minds was to snog them.  (Although admittedly he hadn't tested that theory on Colin Creevey, the chattiest person in Gryffindor, so far.)

When he finally let go of Ron, they were both panting.  Then Ron wiped his mouth and said, "See?  They do get in the way!"

"Not from where I was standing, but we can try it again," Harry offered and he pounced.

This time they both ended up horizontally on the bed.  After that things became rather interesting.

 

xXx

 

"Maybe if I tried Banishing them?" Ron mused an hour later, staring at himself in the long mirror on the back of the dormitory door.

"Remember what happened to Eloise Midgen's acne," Harry warned.  "You could end up cursing your balls off instead and _still_ have the tits."

"You're not much help," Ron grumbled.  "I haven't heard one useful suggestion from you so far!"

"You did!" Harry said in an injured tone.  "I said you could borrow Angelina's breast-guards for Quidditch practice tomorrow."

"Yeah, cheers, that's great, mate."  Ron turned back to the mirror and examined his bosom again.  "I suppose it's that or I visit Madam Pomfrey."  His face screwed up.  "Can you imagine what she'll say?"

"You could always ask Hermione," Harry suggested, looking around his shoulder.

"Can you imagine what _she'll_ say?"

"I reckon she might surprise you."  Harry leered at him in the mirror, and reached both hands around Ron to squeeze the extra, very tantalising flesh.  "After all, she's got a thing about tits herself."

Ron's eyes nearly bugged out for a moment – then a reluctant grin began to dawn.

"Wouldn't _that_ be a threesome!" he murmured speculatively ….

 

 **\- The End -**


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